


A Quick Clever Tongue

by Chrononautical



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Thorin Oakenshield, Gold Sick Thorin, Healing Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, do I get a pass since the illness is magically induced?, since Thorin is not in her right mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrononautical/pseuds/Chrononautical
Summary: For your consideration: hairy, forceful, gold-mad Thorin Oakenshield having her way with Bilbo after giving him the mithril armor.





	A Quick Clever Tongue

Mithril suited him. Oh, that was an understatement if ever one was made under sky or stone. The mithril coat shone like moonlight, illuminating his gentle features so that his golden skin gleamed and the topaz of his eyes shimmered like candlelight. Beauty radiated from her hobbit like heat from a forge. 

And he was hers. Bilbo had stepped in front of blades for her, killed goblins, ridden barrels, climbed mountains, flown with eagles, signed a contract, accepted a gift, and even faced a dragon on her order. He belonged to her, as much as any other jewel in her mountain, and she would have him. Grasping his delicate chin in one hand, she took first a kiss. Then another. He tasted of sweet things and sunlight, her Shire-love. Like nothing she had ever tasted before. 

Shrugging out of her fur, she lay the coat upon the floor and pushed him down upon it. Squeaking delightfully, he obeyed her. All that he did was meant to please her. Stroking her beard with eager hands. Welcoming her tongue with a hungry mouth. Gasping at her boldness when she took next his pants. 

She would have him in the mithril. Perhaps it would be best to have him only in the mithril, but there was no time to waste trying to get his shirt out from underneath the armor. She would have him at once and he would be hers forever. Only ever hers. Touched by no hand but her own. Planting nowhere but her land. Bowing to no law but her command. Her gem. Her love. Her One. 

“Well, ah.” Bilbo coughed. 

Her hand on his wrist tightened too quickly. Pain flickered across his face and she loosened her grip. She did not let him go. “You refuse me?” 

“Never.” His free hand came once more to twist gently in her beard and his mouth begged another kiss. 

She gave it to him, tossing her greaves and boots aside eagerly as she did so. 

“Thorin.” Bilbo pulled back again. He had something to say. As she needed both hands for her sword belt, she allowed him space to say it. “I would not like to mislead you. Things like this tend to be a bit different for hobbits than they are for dwarves, I think.” 

Leaving her breeches for a moment, she moved to kiss him again. First his mouth. Then his cheek. Then his neck, making sure to drag her beard against his smooth skin in a way that made him whimper. She would have him. He belonged to her already. He could not refuse. 

“No, I am not refusing anything. I simply feel that you have a right to know that in my youth there was a lass or two.” Thorin stopped her kisses and looked upon him. “Well, six,” he admitted. “And a few lads, to be perfectly honest. More to the point, Oleander Proudfoot and I shared quite a memorable summer the year I turned twenty-nine, so I am not entirely sure there is any place on my person that has not been rather repeatedly touched by another’s hand.” 

“I will kill her.” Thorin felt rage explode within her heart, a fire that surpassed even her hatred for Thranduil and the jealous certainty that some member of her company was false. “I will rip the lungs from her chest and make you a crown of her entrails.” 

“Now, now,” Bilbo said, looking alarmed. “There is no need for anything of that sort. She’s happily married and a thousand miles away, besides.”

Easing her grip upon Bilbo’s mail shirt, Thorin verified her understanding. “She will not try to take you from me?” 

“No.” Bilbo patted Thorin uselessly about the shoulders as though trying to calm a startled pony. “No, I am yours. Bowing only to your command, giving my seed only to your garden, and everything else you said before. That is all very well and good. I simply did not want you to feel misinformed later, if you should learn that hobbits do not wait for certainty as dwarrow do.”

Her honest burglar. So sweet that she needed to kiss him again before finally ridding herself of her breeches. Then, of course, she took him. 

Dis had warned her to expect pain if she should ever take a lover, but Thorin’s modest champion was not capable of giving her that. Instead he gave her soft whimpers and quiet moans. She rode him swiftly against the stone of the floor and the fur of her coat, and he bucked eagerly beneath her. Bilbo ached to give. He gave her her name, groaning it over and over again, asking for permission to give more. He gave her the work of his body, the desperate clutch of his hands on her arms, and the twisted need writ across his face. He even gave her his heart; the sweet look in his eyes said as much. Since he was so eager, she took all that was her due until he lay beneath her, soaked with sweat, and spent completely by his efforts. 

After, she rested beside him for a moment. There was much to do. A traitor needed to be rooted from her company. The men of Dale would soon come begging at her gate. Then she would need to fight to protect her treasures. But he was so soft, her hobbit. If he wished for a moment at her side after being claimed by his queen, she might oblige him. For a moment only. 

Apparently he did not require much indulgence. Feeling him move to rise, she opened her eyes. However, she was pleasantly arrested by the sight that greeted her. The mithril chainmail was rucked up around one shoulder and he was squirming to rid himself of waistcoat and shirt without removing it. After only a few moments he was utterly bare save for her gift, which draped over his gentle curves. 

“Better?” she asked, taking care not to laugh at him. 

Grinning, he said, “One day there shall be nothing at all between us, my queen, but I thought it would be best to continue wearing your marvelous gift just now.” 

“Yes.” She pulled him down for a forceful kiss. “Wear it until we are safe.” 

His hands were so gentle on her beard and his mouth so soft that she allowed the kiss to continue for longer than she intended. Indeed, it was some minutes later when she finally pulled away. She needed to go. The Arkenstone must be found. The traitor must be discovered. Soon enough the Men in Dale would demand her attention. 

“I wonder, my queen, if I might beg a boon.”

Tugging his forelock playfully, she gave him a smile. “Anything you like, my love, so long as you promise to grow your hair long enough for me to give you a marriage braid.” 

His answering smile glowed like gold in firelight. “Nothing would please me more, beloved.” 

Thorin shivered. It was the first word of love he had spoken, with his clever dancing tongue. She had not been uncertain. Not really. It merely pleased her to hear the endearment from his lips. Moreover, she would not be averse to hearing more. “What would you have of me?”

Kissing her chastely, he fingered the collar of her tunic and traced one hand down the front of her armor. “Will you take this off for me? Just for a little while.” The blush that suffused his face was very attractive; as was the way he bit his lower lip. “I should like to be closer to you than your mail allows.” 

A strange hesitation troubled her heart then. It was not reluctance to remove the armor, for he was no threat, but rather a disinclination to be seen bare by him. Undoing the straps of her mail and shucking her vambraces felt like a good compromise. At least it seemed so, until Bilbo moved to help by peeling up the lower edge of her tunic. She caught his wrist.

“My love?”

Thorin kissed his palm. “We are not the same, Bilbo.” 

“No,” Bilbo agreed, dropping his other hand to Thorin’s thigh and stroking the dark hair there. She noticed that his legs were nearly bald, except for the lush curls that covered the tops of his feet. “I should very much like to see how different we are.” His hand trailed higher to the base of her hip, and though they had already finished their lovemaking, she felt a strange desire to have that hand dip between her legs entirely. It did not. Instead, Bilbo once again reached for the lower edge of her tunic. This time, Thorin allowed him to remove it. 

Once again, the feeling of uncertainty plagued her as she sat divested of all clothing and armor, naked before his gaze. He was hers. That would not change. Oaths had been sworn. Love had been spoken. She would not release him. Yet she would have liked to be beautiful to his eye, as he was to hers, and she knew that it could not be so. 

Indeed, she heard the catch in his breath when first he saw her nude chest. His hand stopped in the air between them for a moment before very gently going to the scar on her left breast. It was by far the worst of her scars, for it made her breast pucker strangely, looking much smaller than the right one. Beyond the appearance of the thing, healers had told her that she would never be able to use it to nurse. That had not been a concern before, when the idea of catching pregnant was a laughable one, but perhaps it would worry the one who would be her husband. It ought not. She had a second perfectly good breast, but his gaze did not go to it. She wished he would look upon the more shapely one.

“I am a queen.” Her voice sounded harsh even to her own ears. She wanted to go back to the treasure chambers and gather enough gold to shower him with it. To prove her worth by besting a thousand of his enemies, but he was a hobbit. All of Bilbo’s enemies had first been Thorin’s, and defeating them would not be for his sake. 

“That would not have mattered if this cut had been a little deeper,” Bilbo said. His hand was trembling against her skin. However, he was correct. The slash was directly over her heart. A little deeper and it would have killed her. That it had not laid her low was proof of her skill.

“I beheaded the orc that gave me the wound.” 

“I am sure you did.” As if he needed reassurance that she had not been killed in a battle nearly a decade before the hobbit was born, Bilbo kissed her gently. “I’m sure you did,” he repeated, kissing her again. 

His mouth trailed over her beard to find the pulse point in her neck. As he did this, he crawled closer, straddling one of her legs while his hands explored the patchwork of scars that covered her skin. It was pleasing to have his smooth thigh brush against her forge while he explored her with his nimble hands and gentle kisses. Remarkably pleasing. Thorin was a little disappointed when he shifted it back so that he could continue kissing down her chest. A greedy impulse almost had her commanding him back, his mouth upon her breast and his knee to rub against her sex until she gave him leave to stop, but she did not. This was a stolen moment to indulge him, because he was hers. A gift, like the mithril he wore, to keep him happy and safe at her side. She would allow him to do as he liked. 

Then his mouth pressed against a scar just to the left of her navel and she forgot to be displeased at the loss of pressure between her thighs. “Oh really?” Bilbo’s eyes twinkled mischievously and his mouth twitched in a little smirk. Before Thorin could scold him or catch him by the hair and make him do it again, the little hobbit cheerfully bent forward and bit her. The scrape of his teeth was followed immediately by the wet salve of his tongue and she shook, crying out. 

Somehow, shortly thereafter, Bilbo’s mouth kissed its way down to Thorin’s forge. Of course her own fingers had found their way there on occasion, but comparing that to Bilbo’s kisses was like comparing pyrite to gold. Heat flooded her entire body. One of his hands pressed upon her lower abdomen. He had not the strength to hold her, of course, but it was a reminder not to buck up and brain him with her hips. This was necessary, because her mind did not seem able to focus. 

On.

Anything.

Except.

Bilbo. 

Bilbo’s swirling, lapping tongue slipped away from the center of her pleasure and dipped into the heart of her forge. Her thighs seized and nearly crushed him trying to pull him closer. Naturally this only forced him to stop with a squeak of displeasure. Apologizing, she begged him to continue. That was hardly necessary. Before she’d even finished the apology, he’d slipped his clever little fingers inside of her to work. He was very eager to oblige. 

His mouth returned to kissing as well, just as she asked. First a kiss was pressed to her lower abdomen. Then another dropped too low, to the soft hair along the inside of her thigh. A third kiss was given to the joint of her hip. Stimulating, but far to the side of where she wanted him, despite the work of his fingers. Finally his mouth returned to kiss and suck and hum against the heart of her need. 

She needed nothing more than to have him continue. In her desperation she made promises. Promises of gold, land, crowns, anything, anything at all, so that he did not stop. It was more exhilarating than racing along the burning river of gold to face Smaug had been, because she could see the drop off fast approaching and she needed it. Thorin needed to fall over that edge so desperately. 

Bilbo obliged. 

Once, inspecting a mining operation in the Blue Mountains, Thorin had been in an earthquake. After falling through the floor, she’d looked up, dazed, to see a vein of amethysts sparkling all around her. It felt like that now. The stone of her body, shaped by the hand of Mahal, shook apart. She fell into a dizzying explosion of sensation. 

And.

There.

Bilbo.

His mouth and hand had kept at their work while the world fell apart, through the aftershocks, ceasing only as peace stole over Thorin. Then he snuggled up alongside her body sweetly. When she had the breath for it, she kissed him gently. Then again more deeply, tasting herself in his mouth. 

In a better world, they would have lain together for hours upon a proper bed, dozing and speaking quiet words of love. Unfortunately, that had never been Thorin Oakenshield’s lot in life. Kissing him one final time, she rose and began to dress. 

“Oh! Er, can you not stay a while longer yet? I might yet entertain you further,” Bilbo said suggestively. He still made quite a picture in his mithril armor and nude bottom, seated upon her cloak, smiling up at her. Yet there was something tired behind his eyes. There was something that he hid from her. 

Fear stole into Thorin’s heart. “You do not wear the armor because you feared I would hurt you.” 

She could not make it a question, but his eyes went wide with shock and his mouth dropped open. “No! Why would you hurt me, Thorin? I know that you would never do that.” 

Since there was nothing in his face but surprise, her heartbeat slowed to a more normal pace. “Good. That is good.” She felt far too much to speak further on the subject. “I must go now. Rest upon my cloak if you choose. There is work to be done, for which you would be even less use than Kili, Dori, Nori, and Ori.”

“Thorin?”

“The rest of us are builders. The men of Laketown come to Dale for shelter, but the houses there are old and burned out. With the tools from the mountain, we can see to it that there are safe places for them to inhabit by the time they arrive. You have never truly seen dwarrow at work, Master Baggins, not our proper work. What we restore in haste will serve Bard’s children well for centuries to come.” 

Bilbo’s eyes were bright and hopeful. “And the traitor?” he whispered, as though he hardly dared believe her words. 

“There is no traitor,” Thorin said gruffly. “My mind is clearer now. You need no longer fear that I will wander among the treasure muttering curses as my grandfather did.” It was too much. She could not face it. Yet it needed to be said. “Though I trust you will remind me that there is good in this world beyond the glitter of gold, should I need such prompting.” 

“Always,” he vowed, leaping to his feet and taking her hand in both of his. “Oh Thorin! I am so glad you are yourself again!” 

“Yes, well.” Thorin coughed. “Some of us will go to make lodgings for the Men of Laketown. I would be obliged if, once you have rested, you do what you can to assist Oin. They will have wounded, and you know more of herbalism than any other member of our company.” 

“I will,” he said earnestly. So she had to kiss him again. 

Tugging gently at his hair, Thorin said, “I was not in my right mind when I asked before. Moreover, you knew it when you answered me. I will not hold you to a promise made in such a way. Yet I would ask you to consider.” 

Bilbo looked confused for a moment, then he grinned. “I am yours, my queen. That much is ever true. If dwarven marriage custom involves my having hair enough to braid, then I shall grow mine out as long as any lass in the Shire.” 

Knowing that it likely made her look a fool, Thorin grinned back at him. A broad, unchecked smile that showed her teeth and seemed to stun her hobbit with its expressiveness. “Good.” 

And it was. 

“We will be happy together,” she added. 

And they were.


End file.
